


Recovery

by goldarrow



Series: Timeline!verse [5]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 01:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20399635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldarrow/pseuds/goldarrow
Summary: Stephen recovers from Helen's attack with the help of his friends.Deals with the aftermath of rape and torture.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures, not me. I will return them when I’m done, slightly mussed but in superb spirits.
> 
> Ditzy belongs to fredbassett, who kindly lends him out.

I opened my eyes and realised that my body was doing its best to squeeze into the tiny space between the side of the fridge and the wall. Ryan was standing in front of the cooker with his hands held out in front of him, as still as a statue, watching me warily. The remains of the eggs I’d been frying decorated the floor in a yellow and white surrealist puddle.

It had been almost a month since a completely mad Helen Cutter from another timeline had kidnapped me. She and her henchmen took me to the Cretaceous, then three of her Cleaner clones had beat the crap out of me and raped me before they staked my bleeding body out for the local carnivorous creatures to feast on. Ryan and his team found me, and when Helen pulled a gun on them, Blade killed her. When they reported the incident to Lester, I understand that his only comment was something to the effect of, “One less Helen Cutter to worry about, then. Carry on.”

I was pretty torn up, and they kept me in hospital for three days, and on bed rest at home in the spare room for another seven, all on a liquid diet. In that entire time, Ryan was a rock: always there when I started to get a little twitchy, but never pushing for more than I could give. It had taken me four days from the time I finally got out of bed before I could accept being held. A quick touch was okay if I knew it was coming, but hugs were completely out. Anything that stopped me from moving freely set off a panic attack. I can almost laugh about it now, but the time that I panicked when I got my arms tangled up trying to pull a shirt over my head I was so furious I wanted to just run away and hide from the world. Ryan simply yanked the shirt off me, grinned, and handed me a knife to shred it with, knowing that physical mayhem therapy would probably help more than anything else.

In the last week, I’d been improving a lot. I could handle a hug as long as it wasn’t for too long, and I’d even climbed back into our bed to feel my lover close to me at night. Neither one of us tried anything other than a few cuddles, me because I was still freaking a bit, and Ryan because he was scared to death of hurting me or scaring me even worse than I already was. 

Yesterday, I had my last check-up with the unit medic, Ditzy, who had taken over my care when I was discharged from hospital. Having him there helped a lot; I could handle his cold digits touching me much more easily than the warmer hands of people I didn’t know. They say ‘cold hands, warm heart’. Yeah, Ditzy has that in spades. Dig down under the ever-present sarcasm and his heart is like a volcano. It would have to be, in order to handle being the medic for a Special Forces unit. They end up in some pretty nasty shit. And when that shit explodes all over, Ditzy’s the one who holds them together long enough to get to hospital.

So, anyway, I saw Ditzy, and he checked me over thoroughly. I had to laugh at him this time. He’s always threatening to shove various implements up the arses of the men in order to get them to toe the line, and now he’s actually done it to me so many times in the last two weeks that the threat no longer affects me. When I told him, he laughed in return and said that in that case, he was going to have to upgrade his threats. Then he gave me a clean bill of health, physically. Emotionally was another story. My orders were to take as much time as I needed, not rush myself, be patient. And start the solid food slowly.

So, of course I did the exact opposite. Last night, I told Ryan I’d got cleared for duty, and I wanted him to hold me. All night. He was reluctant, but when I jokingly sat in his lap and told him I wasn’t going to move until he agreed, he accepted the order. He seemed relieved that I could fool around like that. I didn’t tell him that I spent the next few minutes in the bathroom, shaking from reaction. 

We spent the night with him wrapped around me like we used to, and I got maybe two hours sleep, total. He’d hug me, and I’d wake up and freak silently for a few minutes until I could ease a little free, then I’d drop off to sleep, and wake up a few minutes later with him plastered to my back again. This went on all night, until I finally gave up about 6am and crawled out of bed, took a shower and headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I was craving eggs on toast, with extra bacon. I made a triple batch of bacon so Ryan could have some, put it in the oven to stay warm, and started the eggs.

I was concentrating on the cooking when Ryan came into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me and kissed the back of my neck. The pan went straight up in the air, shedding its eggs on the way, and I twisted as hard as I could out of his grasp and tried to make myself thin enough to fit inside that 10cm opening. My heart was hammering so hard I reckoned he could see my shirt jumping. I felt giddy and sick to my stomach, and so incredibly angry at myself that I wanted to scream.

Ryan held still for a few more moments, then squatted down in front of me and reached out without attempting to touch. He just left his hand out, palm up, waiting until I was composed enough to take his hand. Still without moving, he asked quietly, “What happened?”

I couldn’t answer; I couldn’t even meet his eyes. I just sat there, staring at our clasped hands until my breathing steadied. Even then, all I could do was squeeze his hand a little. There was no way I could force any words out past my tight throat.

“You okay?” he asked, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

I shook my head. I was starting to be afraid I’d never be okay again.

“Tell me.” His voice was still quiet, his hand still gentle.

I looked up, just a fleeting glance; I had to know if he was really annoyed and hiding it, or if he still had the some patience left for me. All I saw was concern, and it almost broke me. Here he was, stuck with a boyfriend he couldn’t even touch, and he was just accepting it. I glanced up again, and saw the hint of exasperation I’d been afraid would be there, and I wanted to die, right then. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut as the tattered remnants of my low-self-esteem issues started to weave themselves into whole cloth again.

“Stop it,” he said, a little of the exasperation finally leaking into his voice. “I love you. You are worth waiting for. Stephen, look at me, please.” He squeezed my hand, hard.

That he realised so quickly why I was ashamed was enough to ground me, just a little, just enough. I gripped back, and looked up at him. He sat down on the floor, still holding on. Now, all I could see was the caring again.

“Tell me,” he repeated. 

I tried to find words for what was happening. “I - I. . .” I ran the fingers of my free hand through my hair as I groped for an explanation. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked. “And be honest.”

Shaking my head frantically, I whispered, “No, no, not at all. It’s just. . .” I turned to face him more directly and spoke as steadily as I could. “My head and my heart are both fine. I love you, I want you; crap, I need you.” I wrapped his hand in both of mine and spoke the rest to his knuckles. “It’s just body memory. Being touched that way freaks me because the last time someone touched me sexually it hurt, it hurt so much.” My voice was down to a thread of a whisper by the end of that confession. 

“Christ.” He shifted a little closer. “I’m going to hold you, okay?”

I nodded, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It felt good and it scared the crap out of me and I wanted to simultaneously melt into the embrace and run away. 

“That’s all right?” 

His voice held a tentative note that I hated, so I nodded and forced myself to lean on him.

“So we slow down, give you some time to get over it,” he said. “Isn’t that what Ditzy recommended?”

“Yeah. But it’s not going to work,” I replied dully. Waiting had never been my forte.

“Why not?” he asked. 

And it pissed me off that I could hear amusement in his voice. So I jerked away and glared at him.

“Because it’s not getting any better. The more we hold off, the longer I have to get used to the extreme reactions. You know me. You’ve seen me learn physical things: shooting, fighting. I have a fucking high level of body memory. And I can’t let myself get too used to this kind of freak-out!” 

He stroked my shoulder, lips pursed, as he thought about it. “What are you suggesting?” he asked warily.

“I think you already know,” I replied, allowing my own amusement to leak through. “Take me to bed, damn it, and fuck me through the mattress. Force me past this bloody wall I’ve run into.”

“No fucking way.” This time he pulled away. “I’m not taking the chance of putting you into hospital again!”

Allowing him to back away, I sat there, looking straight into his eyes. “We can take it slowly. When I start to freak, we stop there and wait until I get past it, then we move on.”

He started to look a little more at ease with the idea. “Go on.”

“We can make is as gentle as you want. In fact, I’d like gentle. Very gentle.” I grinned happily at him, knowing I was winning. “We go slowly, but we do it in bed and we don’t stop until we’re both satisfied.”

His gaze dropped to the floor as he worked through the ramifications. That’s one of the annoyances of living with my Special Forces captain - he’s just too bloody good at planning out missions and finding possible sticking points. All I could do was hope he’d see that the benefits outweighed the possible difficulties, because I was extremely tired of reacting to touches like a scared virgin in a bodice-ripper.

After a few minutes, he sighed and looked at me. “Okay. When do you want to do it?”

I gulped. The idea of forcing the issue had been a good one; but now, I had to go through with it and my body was rebelling at the thought. When Ryan raised an eyebrow and his eyes narrowed, I knew he was reading my reaction and starting to back off.

“Tonight. When you get home, I’ll have supper ready, we can eat and relax for a few minutes.” I took a deep breath. “In the meantime, I’m going to do as much physical stuff as I can without completely exhausting myself.” Grinning, I finished, “I need to drain as much adrenaline as possible.”

Ryan laughed. “That sounds like a good idea.” Then he sobered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

My own laugh in return was a bit shaky. “Want to? Fuck, no. Need to? Yes.”

“I have to go. I’ll see you this evening.” He leaned forward slowly and gave me a gentle kiss.

I returned the kiss, loving the taste and feel of him, his lips and his tongue, but still having to ruthlessly batter down the case of shakes that started at the base of my spine and headed outward. I knew damn well that he’d be talking to Ditzy today; all I could do was hope that the medic would go along with it. If he didn’t, I was also sure that Ryan would find a way to put the kibosh on any ‘activities’. Releasing him, I sighed theatrically.

This time both of his eyebrows went up. “What?”

“My eggs are congealing on the floor, and the triple batch of bacon in the oven is most likely little jerky bits by now.”

Ryan laughed and kissed me again. “And I’m completely breakfastless; at least you can make another meal.” Pulling me to my feet, he added, “I’m grabbing a cereal bar. You make something easy on your stomach - like porridge.”

Grumbling, I pushed him toward the door. “And I suppose you’ll check the bin, won’t you?”

“Ah, you know me so well,” he sighed as he blew another kiss and snickered as he made his way out, leaving me with a messy floor and a squadron of butterflies in my stomach that would give the Red Arrows a run for their money in the aerial acrobatics stakes.

xXx

I spent the day doing sensible things: housework, changing the sheets on the bed, a very light workout at the local gym and then a two kilometre run that started as a sprint, rapidly slowed to a jog and then degenerated to a slow walk by the time I made it back home in the late afternoon. Still out of breath and grumbling internally at how out of shape I felt, I was in no mood for Ditzy's call. 

His first words were, “Are you out of your fucking mind?” 

I didn't let him get any further. “No, damn it! I'm frustrated, I'm pissed off, and I'm not going to let this reaction settle into my body memory! Do you think Ryan won't stop if I need him to? Have a little fucking trust! In him, if not in me.”

The silence on the other end of the line spoke louder than any words. Then his voice came through again, quiet and sober, all sarcasm shelved for the moment. “Stephen, I don't think you're ready for this. I can accept that you might need to, but later; give it a couple of weeks. You're still running on adrenaline.” I could hear the smile in his voice at his next words. “Ryan told me about last night.”

I muttered a few filthy words.

Ditzy laughed. “You really thought that he wouldn't notice you pulling away all the time?”

“Fuck. Now I'm pissed off at him. He let me go through that? And didn't say anything?”

“In his defence, he was half asleep, and you lying next to him does engage his cuddle mode. He reckoned you'd have said something if it was really too much.” 

My thoughts ran a race between being offended and being amused at the idea of Ryan in cuddle mode. Amusement won, but only by a nose. “Yeah. I suppose I couldn't expect him to read my mind.”

“Exactly.” Ditzy's voice held a slight note of triumph. “And given that, are you sure you can be open enough to let him know if it's too much for you, or will you try to fight it through and end up doing yourself a mischief?”

I opened my mouth to blast him and sighed instead, rubbing my forehead where a tension headache was starting to form. “Am I healed enough?”

“Yes. Physically, you’re fine.” He hesitated, then added, “Just nothing too extreme for a while, okay?”

“Right, then. How about a compromise? I promise to tell Ryan if it's too much, and he has the authority to stop it, too, if he thinks it's gone too far.”

There was another of those special SF brand silences on the line, then Ditzy soberly replied, “Agreed.”

“But it has to be honest on his part, too,” I insisted swiftly. “He can't pull the plug just because he's nervous. He has to have a valid reason.”

“Agreed,” Ditzy said again. “I'll let him know.”

I knew he was about to hang up, so I said loudly, “Ditz, thank you.”

There was a slight pause, then he chuckled. “Thank me when you're through. If you still feel like it.”

He hung up and I was left to stare at the mobile in my hand, trying to decide if I was doing the right thing, after all. Then I mumbled a few choice words at the empty line, wondering just how the fuck he'd managed to make me start second-guessing myself.

Then I looked at the time and realised I had less than half an hour before Ryan was due home, and I still had to shower and throw together something for dinner. Even harder, something for dinner that wouldn’t overload my still slightly feeble digestive system but that would also be enough to satisfy Ryan. Then inspiration struck and I flipped open the mobile again and hit the quick-dial for the local Chinese take-out. Chicken and sweetcorn soup for me, and sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice for him that I could share, and they would deliver in 45 minutes.

Which left me plenty of time for a nice leisurely shower, and even more time to worry myself into a tizz. By the time I heard Ryan’s key in the front door, I was ready to start swearing at my recalcitrant emotions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Ryan work their way through Stephen's issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deals with the aftermath of rape and torture.

Ryan walked into the flat, took one look at my face, and grinned widely.

“What?” I groused, not pleased at all with the world.

He put his hands on my shoulders, pulled me in slowly, and gave me a careful hug. “If you’d been looking cocky, I’d be worried right now. But you look scared shitless. And that’s a good thing.”

“Huh,” was the only word I could get out, between my disgust with myself and my fears, and my muddled physical response to his arms around me.

“I mean it. You’ve stopped hiding, and now I can trust you.” he whispered, the breath tickling my ear and making me shiver. 

“Oh.” Again, I couldn’t come up with a full sentence. Damn it. I wanted to drag him into the bedroom, I wanted to put my fist through the wall in frustration, I wanted to curl up in a corner and hide. 

He pulled back, smiled at me, and then kissed me, slowly, gently, and thoroughly. Once he was done, he said, “I’ll grab a shower.” Then he sniffed the air and looked confused. “Uh, food?”

It was my turn to grin, as soon as my eyes uncrossed. “Chinese delivery.” I looked at my watch. “In about, um, 10 minutes.”

He nodded and headed for the bedroom. “Right. I’ll be back in seven.”

It actually took him eight. And the food arrived at the same time. We ate quickly, me not very much due to nerves; and Ryan heartily, because, as he said with a smirk, he was going to need his strength. When I growled at him, he just laughed. Which made me even more annoyed, since the butterflies in my stomach had grown to Atlas size, donned cowboy boots and started a square dance, leaving no room for any food.

When he was done, he reached across the table and took my hand. “We’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “Even if tonight doesn’t work out for some reason, there will be other nights.”

I closed my eyes and bit my lip. This was getting too close to my fears; I didn’t want to even think about tonight not working out. “I - I don’t - I can’t -”

He stood up and pulled me close, and when I stiffened he stilled, holding tightly but not moving any more until I started to relax. “It doesn’t matter, Stephen. We’ll get through this. We have plenty of time.” 

Pulling back a little, he looked into my eyes, waiting patiently while I looked everywhere except at him and then finally steeled myself to meet his gaze. He smiled slowly.

“I love you, Stephen Hart,” he said, and loosening his grip a little to prevent me feeling trapped, he kissed me. 

I responded almost desperately, trying to turn my mind off with the sensation, the familiarity of his taste. When the kiss ended, I stood trembling, feeling as if I couldn’t get enough air, breathing in quick, shallow, shaky gasps.

Ryan stepped back, took my hand and led me from the room, saying, “Let’s go to bed.”

Even though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. I could do this. I had to do this. I shut my mind off, knowing I couldn’t think about what was happening. All I could do was trust Ryan, and let myself feel. I caught up with him and we walked into the bedroom together and stopped at the bed, side by side.

Ryan released my hand and cupped the back of my neck instead, bringing our foreheads together. That close, there was no hiding the fear in my eyes from him, or the resolve to get through this. He stroked my temples with his thumbs, and whispered, “Together.”

I nodded. “Together.” Then I grinned wryly. “And I hope I’m the only one who’s terrified, because I really don’t want you running this scene if you are, too.”

Relaxing a little himself, Ryan chuckled. “Scared, yeah. Terrified? I’ll leave that to you.”

“Good.” I stepped back and, taking a deep breath, pulled my shirt off, then toed off my shoes. 

The hunger in his eyes as he watched me was reassuring. I continued to remove layers, seeing his breathing deepen and his eyes start to dilate. A quick glance downward confirmed that he was already hard, the bulge in his trousers obvious. I shivered, and he caught his breath. Knowing that my current lack of arousal would be upsetting for him, I stepped close and, staring straight into his eyes with as much of a smile as I could come up with, I slowly unbuttoned his shirt with shaking fingers. I had to let him know that I wanted him, even if my level of apprehension was keeping me from showing it. 

Once I had him fully undressed, he stepped close again, pressing our bodies together from head to toe. I bit down on the urge to bolt, and wrapped my arms around him in return.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

I chuckled unsteadily. “More or less.” I turned to the bed, stripped off the duvet, and crawled into the centre, giving him a damned good look at my arse on the way.

He moaned. “Christ, Stephen, that’s evil.”

I turned onto my side, propped my head on my hand and grinned, losing a little bit of fear. As long as we could keep a sense of humour, we could get through this. “I know. Now, please come here and let’s get started before I lose my mind and start gibbering.”

“I’d almost pay to see that,” he muttered as he joined me.

I pushed him onto his back and kissed him, running a hand down his chest in quick, short strokes until I reached his cock. The familiar feel of him grounded me a little, as did being able to take a little control. I think he knew that, because he lay there with his eyes closed and a slight smile on his face, letting me touch and stroke, letting me remember the smell and taste of him, taking me back to before the pain and terror. When I leaned forward and lightly licked his slit, taking a drop of his pre-come onto my tongue, he shivered and moaned softly.

Moving up to his face, I stroked his cheek until he opened his eyes. The deep gray irises were almost obliterated by huge pupils, only a tiny rim showing. I kissed him, nibbling gently on his lower lip until he opened his mouth for my tongue. Knowing he could taste himself on me made my cock twitch, just a little. But it was enough for him to feel against his hip, and he deepened the kiss, rolling over until we were facing each other on our sides. When we surfaced, we were both breathing deeply, and, if the smile on my face matched his, both looking rather dopey.

He nodded once, and ran his fingers down my face. “Okay?”

I grinned and rolled onto my back. “More than ready.”

“Uh-uh, we take this slowly.” Reaching out, he opened the drawer on the bedside table and pulled out a new bottle of lube. A rather large one.

I sat up, staring at it. “Are you planning on using all of that?” I asked in shock. “We’re going to slide out of the bed.”

“We’ll use as much as I think we’ll need,” Ryan replied firmly. “And if we end up on the floor, then we’ll mop it up tomorrow.”

Handing him my best line in dirty looks, I started sulking. “Great. Use that lot and I won’t even feel a thing.”

“Oh, you’ll feel it.” His tone was rather salacious.

“Oh. Okay.” I grinned. “How do you want me?”

“On your stomach to start with.” Noting my trepidation, he ran a hand down my arm. “If you can. It’ll be easier to prepare you.”

Swallowing, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

“If you start getting freaked, don’t wait until you’re about to explode. Tell me early, and we’ll adjust.”

I laid back down, rolling onto my stomach and cocking one leg up a little to give him easier access. Taking a deep breath, I pillowed my head on my forearms and did my best to relax.

The sound of the cap being opened on the lube was reassuring. Ryan’s hand stroked my arse slowly, gradually moving closer to my crack as I didn’t object. After a couple of minutes, his fingers slid between my cheeks, just for a second. When I didn’t tense up, he continued the strokes, moving down my crack more often, until he was rubbing one finger slowly and softly from the base of my spine to my balls, passing over my hole on every stroke. I buried my face and shivered, and he stilled immediately. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” I moaned. “It’s good. It’s good.”

His hand moved away, and then returned, a little cooler and a lot slicker. This time, the finger circled my pucker on each stroke, pressing in just a fraction. I kept humming softly, letting him know without words that everything was fine. He continued stroking and adding lube until his finger was able to slide in to the first joint without obstruction. By that time, I was about to go out of my mind; I really needed for him to get a move on. So I let him know.

“If you don’t add at least a second fucking finger,” I growled. “I’m going to flip you over and fucking well sit on you.”

The bastard just chuckled and leaned forward. “Patience is a virtue,” he whispered into my ear.

My answering snarl turned into a whimper as a second digit joined the first while I was distracted. 

“Okay?” he asked again.

“Okay.” I wasn’t lying, either. The unhurried pace, the warmth of his body close to mine, just the knowledge that it was Ryan with me was keeping me calm and receptive.

He scissored his fingers, making me hiss for a second, but before he could stop I said, “Okay. Do it again.”

He did, a little more gradually. Then again, with more lube and a little twist that made me whine. I could feel his fingers slowly moving deeper, crooking a little, searching. Oh, fuck this was intense. Never had anyone prepared me like this: so bloody slowly, so bloody lovingly. I could feel tears starting to fill my eyes, and had to bite back a sob. 

“Oh, God. Please, don’t stop. Please. Please.” The last word came out about an octave higher as his searching fingers found my prostate and pressed. “Oh, fuck.” 

I could hear the laugh in his voice as he started lightly rubbing the little nub, sending shockwaves through my body on every stroke. “Okay?”

“Son of a bitch! If you stop I will kill you.” My attempt to make the threat believable was undermined by the pleading whimper I gave afterward. 

This was good. This was very, very good, and I wasn’t going to think about the cave, I wasn’t going to think about the Cleaners. Shit, shit, shit, I could feel myself starting to overload. The loving care Ryan was showing was in such stark contrast to my experience in the Cretaceous that all of a sudden my body couldn’t figure out what was happening.

I started trembling violently. “Hang on. Don’t stop, just don’t go any further. I need a minute.”

Ryan’s hand stilled for a second, then the slow strokes started again; but this time, he backed off a bit, rubbing my prostate only on every second stroke to give me some breathing room. After a couple of minutes that felt like an hour, the adrenaline rush started to ease. 

When my shaking slowed, Ryan asked, “Okay?”

Nodding, I blew out a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed the back of my shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

I chuckled weakly. “Right.”

Picking up the pace a little, he resumed the harder stroking for a minute, then I felt more lube being added and braced myself. 

“Bloody hell, there’s going to be one fucking big wet spot.” I timed my speech for the moment I reckoned he was going to add the third finger. I got it right. By the time I finished, the finger was in and I’d kept myself distracted so the entry hadn’t bothered me.

“We can replace the mattress.” Ryan’s tone was a little distracted.

“My turn to ask: are you okay?” I turned my head to look at him.

He huffed out a slightly shaky laugh. “Jesus, Stephen, I’ve never been so hard in my life.”

“I think I’m ready,” I said softly. 

“I need a minute, now,” he answered, still moving his fingers slowly in and out of me. “I need to get a little control back.”

“Mm. Take your time.” I laid my head back down and just let myself feel. The movement in my arse was so soft, so slow and gentle, that I could feel myself starting to float. I was breathing in time with the strokes, totally in sync with him. Just occasionally, I felt the slightest unconscious undulation of my hips, moving in concert with my breathing and his fingers.

The bed rocked a little as Ryan adjusted himself to add even more lube, this time to his cock. Then he leaned forward and kissed my shoulder as he removed his fingers and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Slowly, slowly he started to penetrate.

I felt the stretch and the pressure, and in spite of the gentleness and familiarity, I flashed back. The world went black for a second, my breathing stopped, and then every muscle in my body locked up. “Hang on! Stop, stop, oh, fuck.” 

Ryan went motionless immediately, but I still couldn’t breathe. I had to get him off me. “Out, off, please.”

He pulled out and backed off as I turned over and scooted up to the head of the bed, breathing hard. 

“Holy crap,” I whispered. I held out my hand; it was shaking violently. I started laughing; I couldn’t help it. This was so incredibly stupid. Then I looked at Ryan’s face, and he seemed to be torn between joining my laughter and raging in frustration. His expression set me off again for a few moments. I got control of myself, and laid back down, this time on my back.

“I need to see you. Come here.”

His reluctance was as obvious as his erection.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m okay. That was a fine position for the preliminaries, but I need to know it’s you. I need to see your face and look into your eyes. I need you.” The emphasis I placed on the word ‘you’ was the thing that finally persuaded him. 

He moved over me, and I opened my legs for him to settle between them. 

“I love you, Tom Ryan,” I whispered, as I felt his hard cock against my hole again. I shifted a little to allow clear entry, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as he pressed in.

When the swollen head was entirely inside, I felt myself start to tighten. 

“Hold there,” I whispered, and he whimpered and dropped his head to my shoulder, but obeyed. The sense of power that gave me allowed me to relax again, and I added, “Okay, now.”

He added a little more lube and slid the rest of the way in, in one long slow thrust. 

When his balls touched my arse, I whispered, “Holy fucking shit,” as my body gave a shudder that started at the base of my spine and worked its way outward in one long spasm.

Ryan laughed in delight and started moving, just a fraction, rocking his hips. In and out, gradually extending the strokes in increments, millimetre by millimetre, until finally, he was thrusting fully into my arse. Still slow, still steady, so controlled, with an expression on his face more open than I’d ever seen before. I know mine was the same. 

All the times we’d made love since I arrived in this timeline, all the times we’d fucked, we’d never had this deep a connection. He changed his angle a little and started brushing my prostate and my hips started moving in concert with him. After a few minutes, his eyes drifted shut. Looking at him, feeling him, I really didn’t know where I stopped and he started. We were completely one in a way I’d never known with anyone before. 

And it totally blew my mind; not to mention scaring the crap out of me. I know my eyes widened, and I had to fight with myself not to struggle away from Ryan’s touch, Ryan’s knowledge of me. He felt me tighten up, and his eyes jerked open to stare at me with concern. 

“Stephen?” he asked tentatively, still moving slowly and steadily in me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” I forced myself to relax, to allow my body to move with his again. “It was just too much for a second.”

His eyes narrowed, then he smiled. “Yeah. I got lost, too.” He sped his strokes a little, aiming a little harder at my prostate.

“Fuck,” I moaned, as my body shuddered again at each contact. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I could feel my own cock, now heavy and hard against my belly, leaking pre-come in a steady stream.

He leaned forward and sealed his lips to mine, his tongue driving into my mouth in time with his cock thrusting into my arse. Another slight alteration of angle and a direct hit on my prostate, and I wrenched my mouth away from his and cried out as my body convulsed in the most intense climax I’d ever known. It seemed to go on forever. My sphincter clamped down on Ryan’s cock, and he went absolutely still, every muscle locked up as he groaned and came, filling me with warm wetness.

Almost collapsing onto me, Ryan started panting and shaking violently. I stroked him soothingly, bringing him back from wherever he’d gone. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and sighed, then kissed me thoroughly, tasting and mapping every bit of my mouth. I hummed in delight and returned the favour, not even realising he’d pulled out of my arse until he rolled us onto our sides.

Exhaustion hit me; I felt as if I’d smacked head first into a brick wall after running a full marathon, and looking at Ryan, I could see he felt the same way. He started to get up, and I held him tightly. 

“No,” I said firmly. “Do not move.”

“I need to clean us up,” he said, around a huge yawn.

“T-shirt. Beside the bed.” I seemed to be on a one-word, three-word kick.

“Uh. Good idea.” Ryan leaned over and grabbed a shirt from the pile beside the bed. Of course, it ended up being mine, but at this point I didn’t really give a shit. While using it to wipe us off, he managed to get in what he probably thought was a surreptitious check of my arsehole. 

I grinned. “I’m fine.” Taking the shirt from his hand, I dropped it off the bed, shoved him flat onto his back, and plunked my head firmly onto his shoulder. Letting him know without saying a word that everything was perfect, I wriggled around until I was comfortable, and went out like a light.

xXx

I woke up the next morning feeling rather boneless. And rather cool. I peeled my eyelids open and saw that the bed beside me was empty. My brain still wasn’t working very well, so all I could do was lever myself up and glower at the blank spot where Ryan was supposed to be. Then I heard footsteps in the hall, and the bedroom door was kicked open by a dressing-gowned Ryan. Kicked because both of Ryan’s hands were in use, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a large pile of toast.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. 

“Uh-huh.” I looked at him, seeing the uncertainty underneath the exuberance. “Put the tray down, and come here.”

The uncertainty flipped his cheerfulness off a cliff and took over. He set the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed beside me, hands restless on the sheet.

I crossed my legs and sat up, reached for him and pulled him close. Giving him a thorough enough kiss to leave him almost cross-eyed, I grinned. “And good morning back to you.” Tugging on his collar to straighten it, I added, “So, are you ready to switch places tonight?”

Ryan’s face went blank for a second, then his mind caught up, processed my meaning, and his expression went feral. “Oh, yes. You have no idea how ready I am.”

“Good.” I was ready, too. Fuck Helen and her machinations. I was home.

End


End file.
